


Shaken

by tablelamp



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s07e01-02 Down Among the Fearful Parts 1-2, Feelings Realization, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Post-Near Death Experience, Sudden Realization - A's Near Death Experience Makes B Realize Feelings for A, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 12:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20582336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tablelamp/pseuds/tablelamp





	Shaken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pendrecarc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendrecarc/gifts).

Robbie looked up as James approached the bench. "Good to see you."

"Good to be seen," he said, sitting beside Robbie. He'd been thoroughly checked by doctors, though if he hadn't been wearing that neck brace and that injection had hit its mark, no amount of checking would've saved him. He would've died as the others had, quickly and in agony. The thought made him shiver.

Robbie rested a hand on James's arm. "Are you cold?"

James shook his head. "No."

Robbie nodded, understanding what James wasn't saying as well as what he was. He was good that way. "Are you hungry?"

James shook his head again.

A note of humor crept into Robbie's voice. "Are you tired of me asking daft questions?"

"No," James said, turning his head to look at Robbie. "I'm glad you're here." It was dangerous for him to be left alone with his thoughts at a time like this. Usually he ended up getting thoroughly pissed to try to chase his thoughts away.

Robbie gave James's shoulder the tiniest squeeze. "Me too." He dropped his hand, but was still close enough that their arms were nearly touching. James found the nearness very grounding.

Were this a normal day, James would've cleared the path for conversation by making some sort of joke about what had happened, but death and almost-death weren't things he'd ever had much of a sense of humour about. "Have you--?" No, that was too personal a thing to ask.

But Robbie didn't let the question go unnoticed. "Have I?"

If Robbie had encouraged James to ask an intrusive question, did that make it any better? James wrestled with himself for a moment and then spoke. "Have you ever been sure you were going to die?"

"Yeah," Robbie said. "It was a while ago now but it feels like yesterday when I think about it."

James didn't want Robbie to feel pressured to revisit the situation, so he decided to redirect the conversation slightly to a broader topic. "Fear does that. Etches things into our memories so we don't get in the same situation again."

"I think it's probably impossible for me to be in that situation again," Robbie said. "At least, I hope so. It was at the end of a case. The circumstances were unusual. I'd worked out who the killer was but I'd gone alone."

Despite the fact that Robbie was fine, alive, and right next to him, James felt a sense of creeping unease. 

"Morse found me," Robbie said. "I still don't know how. Well, I do. He went racing through the woods shouting for me. If he'd come any later, it would've been over." He exhaled quietly. "Took me a few hours to be convinced I really was alive. Don't know if that makes any sense."

James nodded, the sensation painfully familiar. "It does."

Robbie met James's eyes, and there was a moment of silent understanding between them. "I'm sorry it does. I can't say this is a club I wanted you to join."

"Better this one than people who don't make it," James said.

This time, Robbie shuddered. "Don't say that. I know you're joking, but--"

"No, of course," James said. "Sorry."

Robbie shook his head. "My being there didn't help you. There wasn't a bloody thing I could've done."

James shrugged. "I'll just have to make sure I hurt my neck before every case." There it was--there was the joke. He'd known there was one in there somewhere, in spite of the residual panic that hadn't quite left his body yet.

Robbie smiled. "Or put a neck brace on before you go chasing suspects."

"Well, there we are," James said, waiting to see how Robbie would respond before he tried to contribute further to the conversation.

Robbie rested his hand on James's shoulder again, giving him an awkward pat.

James cleared his throat. "I was thinking. I don't have very much, but if something should happen to me, I want you to have what there is."

Robbie recoiled, pulling his hand back from James's shoulder. James missed the touch. "I don't want your things."

That shouldn't have hurt as much as it did, but James felt the sting of it. He spoke lightly, trying to behave as though it didn't bother him at all. "No, of course not. It's books mostly, and they'd probably be dead boring to you. I don't imagine you'd particularly enjoy things like a historical examination of the Order of Cistercians. Maybe as some sort of sleep aid."

Robbie shook his head, increasingly agitated. "You don't understand. I don't want your _things._ Morse thought he was doing me a favour leaving me his things, and he was, but they're only things, in the end. They're not a replacement, and they can't be, and it's stupid to think that having a car or books or anything can make up for that person not being there." He was breathing hard now. "Val died Christmas shopping. You think I can even look at gifts without--" But he cut himself off, shaking his head. "Of course I'd read your books, and I'd look at the notes you made--if you're the sort who writes in his books--and I'd miss you like hell and wish I could give all the books back if it meant _you'd_ be there."

James hadn't any idea that Robbie harboured such strong feelings about him. He'd known they were friends--or thought they were friends, anyway--but if he'd been asked if Robbie would ever have an emotional outburst about the idea of him dying, he'd have considered it unlikely. "This really scared you."

"I was never there before," Robbie said. He was still shaking a bit. "I lost people, but I wasn't there with them. I used to think it would've been better if I had been--easier in some way." He shook his head. "There is no easy way."

"No," James said, thinking of his own experiences.

Robbie sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shouted at you."

"You're all right," James said. "I don't think I mind."

Robbie frowned at James. "You don't think?"

"I'm not entirely sure how I feel about anything at the moment," James said. It was true enough. He was still feeling at least a little wobbly, which tended not to lend itself to his forming strong opinions about much of anything. Well, anything other than 'it certainly is lucky I didn't die.' He did have strong opinions about that.

"I am," Robbie said, looking as though the notion of having strong opinions depressed him.

"That was a grim pronouncement," James said, not so secretly fishing for more information.

Robbie sighed. "It doesn't do any good feeling things, does it?"

James shook his head. "You're asking the wrong person. I've never been able to work out whether it does any good or not."

Robbie nodded. "I'm going to tell you something. I'll probably regret it the minute I've told you, but you can blame the decision on today or stress or senility if you like."

James wasn't following Robbie's train of thought at all. "Right."

"And you don't have to do anything," Robbie said, looking anxious. "I mean, you don't have to do anything about what I tell you. I don't expect anything."

That was not at all clarifying or comforting in the way Robbie seemed to intend it, given that James still didn't know what he was talking about. "Right."

"Today," Robbie said, "after what happened, I realized how I feel about you is stronger than I thought."

James had noticed that much. "Right."

Robbie looked at James, evidently waiting for some kind of epiphany, and when he didn't see one, he shook his head. "No. Stronger than that."

From James's perspective, there wasn't much that was stronger than what he'd been thinking of, unless he thought about--and there was the epiphany. James nodded slowly, fitting the pieces together in his mind. No wonder Robbie had been so upset by James's casual mention of leaving him his books. "I see."

"And?" Robbie said, looking extremely nervous.

James looked at him. "And?"

"And you're resigning? And you're requesting a transfer? And you're flattered, but?" Robbie jiggled his leg, waiting for James's inevitable rejection.

But it had to be said, that rejection didn't seem nearly so inevitable to James. "None of those things, for a start."

"You don't have to be polite with me, James," Robbie said. "Just tell me to leave you alone."

"And if I don't want you to leave me alone?"

"Of course you do," Robbie said.

James smiled. "Should I go away so you can have this conversation by yourself?"

"Just tell me the truth," Robbie said. "Whatever it is, I'll manage."

James nodded thoughtfully. "Well, Sara Teasdale was wrong."

Robbie frowned. "Eh?"

"She was an American poet, writing in the early twentieth century," James said. "There was a particular poem of hers I read not long after I left the seminary, and I thought at the time that it reflected what had happened to me. What my life would be."

Robbie knew better than anyone that James's roundabout discussions of literature always had a point in the end, which was probably why he didn't immediately tell James to talk sense. "Go on."

James cleared his throat. "'The April night is still and sweet/With flowers on every tree;/Peace comes to them on quiet feet,/But not to me./My peace is hidden in his breast/Where I shall never be;/Love comes to-night to all the rest,/But not to me.'" 

Robbie nodded sympathetically. Perhaps he knew the feeling behind the poem as well.

"But," James said, "as I said, Sara Teasdale was evidently wrong."

"You're not uncomfortable?" Robbie asked. "With what I've told you?"

"No," James said. "I've wanted to hear it for quite a while."

"What?" That revelation seemed to surprise Robbie out of his nervousness entirely. "Why didn't you tell me?"

James tried halfheartedly to hide his amusement, although at this point, he didn't think it mattered if Robbie saw it.

After a moment, Robbie seemed to realize the humour in the situation too, and chuckled. "Never mind. I know why. We are a pair, aren't we?"

"I'd like to think so," James said.

Robbie reached for James's hand, then pulled his hand back, hesitating. "Can I?"

James took Robbie's hand in answer. Robbie looked embarrassed and pleased at the same time.

"So," James said, "what does this mean?"

"Means I'll have to find meself a new sergeant," Robbie said. "You should be going up for inspector soon anyway."

"I don't know," James said. He'd been feeling ambivalent about police work lately, and this case had only added to that ambivalence.

"You don't have to decide now," Robbie said. "I didn't think much of being a sergeant right after--you know. What we were talking about before. But I think you'd be good."

"I never really wanted to be in charge of anyone," James admitted. "What if I'm terrible at it?"

"Then you'll get better, won't you?" Robbie said. "No one's good right away, and everyone goes about being in charge differently. If you decide to do it, you'll be fine."

James was less convinced of that, but it was nice to know Robbie thought so, anyway. "You should take a look at DC Gray. He's not a sergeant yet, but he's on the way, and he's good."

"Noted," Robbie said. "Done with talking about ourselves, are we?"

James nodded. "Yeah." He glanced at Robbie, trying not to seem overeager. "Maybe tonight I could make you dinner?"

Robbie smiled. "It's been ages since someone cooked for me. Well. Someone who didn't work at a takeaway place."

James pretended to think. "I'm almost certain I don't work at a takeaway place."

Robbie smiled. "I don't need anything fancy, mind. I'm not picky, but don't feel you have to do anything special."

"I know I don't have to, Robbie," James said. "I want to."

"Oh," Robbie said. "That's different then."

Neither one of them could see the future, of course, but James thought his future had improved immeasurably over the course of this conversation. He scooted a bit closer, close enough so that he and Robbie were subtly touching each other as they sat, in addition to holding hands.

Robbie didn't seem to mind.


End file.
